The Bake-Off (33 page)

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Authors: Beth Kendrick

BOOK: The Bake-Off
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“Nice.” Amy gave him a thumbs-up. “Rockin' the fauxhawk.”
“Particle Man” started blasting away. Linnie and Amy both reached for their bags.
“It's mine.” Linnie glanced at her cell phone screen, saw Grammy Syl's name on the screen, and tossed the phone to Amy. “It's for you.”
“Oh no.” Amy lobbed the phone back. “It's your phone; you talk to her.”
“I can't talk to her right now.”
“Well, I can't, either!”
“Well,
someone's
got to.”
Cam intercepted the phone in midair. “Hello, this is Cam McMillan speaking. How are you, Mrs. Bialek? . . . Yes, Linnie's right here. . . .”
He offered the phone to Linnie, who warded him off with frantic arm waves.
“She's indisposed at the moment. May I take a message? . . . All right . . . All right . . . Yes, Mrs. Bialek . . . Absolutely . . . We'll be there as soon as possible.” He turned off the phone and told the two sisters, “We have strict orders to report to your grandmother's doorstep posthaste.”
“All three of us?” Amy asked.
“Yes, I'm to report along with the two of you. She was quite clear about that.”
“What do you think she's going to do to us?” Linnie asked in a haunted whisper.
“I don't think she's going to
do
anything.” Cam looked mystified by her trepidation. “She sounds like she just wants to chat.”
“You say that because you don't know Grammy,” Amy said.
“Yeah. She's not a chatter. She's a doer.” Linnie swallowed hard. “We'd better get out of these T-shirts and back into our regular clothes. Not that it'll do us any good—you know she can sniff out deception from a mile away.”
“What are you talking about?” Cam laughed. “She's a sweet, charming, little old lady.”
Amy gave a sad head shake. “Poor sucker's never gonna know what hit him.”
Chapter 29
“
A
ll right, both of you, remember what we talked about and stick to the plan.” Linnie stood on the plastic daisies attached to Grammy's woven straw welcome mat and addressed Amy and Cam as though she were a general reviewing battlefield strategy. “Tell her anything you want about Delicious Duet, but nobody mentions the brooch.”
“We heard you the first fifty times,” Amy said.
“I'm serious. This woman is in her eighties with three brain aneurysms. She doesn't need any extra stress in her life right now.”
“Nobody's going to tell her.” Cam leaned in to kiss Linnie, but she refused to be distracted.
“If all three of us corroborate each other's stories, she can't break us. Amy and I have already been over this, but there's this classic problem in game theory called the prisoner's dilemma.”
Cam sighed. “I'm familiar with the prisoner's dilemma. I won't crack.”
“You need to stay focused. The minute she catches you in a lie—”
All three of them jumped as the door swung inward, revealing Grammy in her uniform of pearls, cashmere, and a floral-patterned apron. The enticing, homey scent of apple pie wafted into the hallway as she beckoned them into her lair.
“Darlings! I'm so glad to see you. Come in, come in.”
“Something smells delicious,” Cam said. He sniffed the air, practically drooling.
“I just took a szarlotka out of the oven.”
“At nine o'clock in the morning?” Amy asked, incredulous.
“Baking soothes my shattered nerves, and these last twenty-four hours have been quite disconcerting. You'll stay and have a piece.” This was a command, not a request. With a hand signal that looked suspiciously like something she'd learned from Cesar Millan, Grammy indicated that they should stay put while she went into the kitchen.
Amy, Linnie, and Cam milled around the family room in uneasy silence.
“We're doing fine,” Linnie murmured. “Just maintain.”
Grammy returned carrying a white wooden tray laden with four dainty china mugs containing herbal tea, which no one dared refuse.
“Well.” She distributed the tea, perched on the edge of an overstuffed brocade chair, and gazed up at her granddaughters. “You two are the talk of the baking world. The Internet is abuzz.”
“It was my fault,” Cam said, stepping in front of the sisters. “I never told Linnie I was a judge and a sponsor.”
“No, it was my fault.” Linnie scootched around Cam. “I should have told him I was a contestant. He asked me flat out why I was in New York, and I didn't tell him the whole truth.”
Amy remained at the rear of the pack. “Well, we all agree it wasn't my fault, so may I please be excused?”
“You may not.” Grammy's tone was crisp. “Something else is going on with you girls.”
Linnie tried to look innocent. “What are you talking about?”
“I've called you a dozen times since yesterday, and you won't pick up. Brandon refuses to breathe a word about your whereabouts. You're hiding something, and I intend to find out what.”
Linnie started to sweat. “We've told you everything there is to tell. Cam and I got a little, um, carried away, and I should never have gone ahead with the finals without letting him know who I was, but we baked our hearts out yesterday. Our szarlotka was really good, Grammy.”
“Delectable,” Amy threw in. “Tai and Ty Tottenham are the real culprits here. Let's figure out what we're going to do to them.”
Grammy sipped her chamomile and tightened the net. “It's time to serve the pie. I'm going to take each of you back into the kitchen, one at a time, and have a little chat.”
Amy's eyes got huge. “Oh my God.”
“Prisoner's dilemma,” Cam intoned.
“Linnie, darling, you first.” Grammy untied her apron and started toward the kitchen.
Linnie cracked.
“Forgive me, Grammy, for I have sinned.” She threw herself down on the carpet and begged for absolution. “I admit it. I admit everything.” A detailed confession poured out of her, starting with
The Joy of Cooking
and ending with the last-minute flight to Vegas. “Please, please, you have to forgive me.”
There ensued a long pause. Everyone stared at Grammy, waiting for her reaction.
“What happened to maintaining?” Amy whispered.
“So much for the prisoner's dilemma,” Cam said.
“The guilt!” Linnie buried her face in the carpet fibers. “The guilt is eating me alive. I just want you to know that I'd do anything to fix this, Grammy.”
Grammy still didn't turn around to face them.
“She knows she screwed up, and she's really sorry,” Amy said.
“Don't worry; I already gave her a good talking-to.”
“I should have told you weeks ago.” Linnie struggled back into an upright position.
Grammy still didn't turn around, but she finally spoke. “Indeed you should have. And you, Amy. How long have you known about this?”
“Um . . .”
“My grandmother's brooch.” Grammy Syl sounded desolate. “Why didn't you tell me about this when there was still a chance to fix your mistake? I would have helped you. I would have figured out a way to get it back. But you knew it was gone and let me keep talking about it like a doddering old fool.”
“I should have told you,” Linnie murmured. “I know. But I felt so ashamed. I didn't want to disappoint you.”
“We didn't want to add to your worries,” Amy said. Grammy nodded. “And do you feel better now that you've unburdened your consciences?”
“No,” the sisters chorused.
Grammy dismissed Cam with a wave of her hand. “You may go. Vasylina, come with me. We are going to discuss this further in private.”
Linnie shuffled into the kitchen as if she were wearing leg irons and hunched over the table, memorizing the pattern of the wood grain and wishing she'd stayed in Vegas. But Grammy didn't say another word about the brooch. Instead, she presented Linnie with a chair and warm slice of pie.
“Sit.”
“Did you just bake this today? Grammy, you need to take it easy. You heard what the doctors said; you shouldn't be—”
Grammy handed her a fork and a napkin. “Eat.”
Linnie took a bite and rocked back in her chair. “Holy cow. This is good. Ridiculously good. This puts the szarlotka Amy and I made to shame.”
Grammy sat down next to Linnie and tapped her fingers on the tabletop. “Linnie, Linnie, Linnie. What am I going to do with you?”
“I don't know.” Linnie couldn't resist another bite of pie. “But listen, you can't blame Amy for any of this. Cam, either. I am the failure here. I am the problem.”
“You've always been intense. Even when you were very young, you were so different from other children. I never could connect with you the way I did with Amy.” Grammy's eyes welled with regret.
“Don't feel bad about that, Grammy. Amy is easy to love, and I . . . well, I'm not. I know that.”
“Darling, I don't love you because you deserve it. I just love you.” She covered Linnie's hand with her own. “You always need to win, and it breaks my heart.”
Linnie used her fork to push around the crumbs and chunks of apple on her plate.
“Come here, Vasylina.” Grammy enfolded Linnie in her small, strong arms. “I don't care that you lost our legacy. I don't care that you got disqualified. None of your mistakes make me love you any less. But, on the flip side, none of your achievements make me love you any more.”
Linnie had to laugh a little. “Then why bother doing anything?”
“You're such a smart girl, but so scared.” Grammy kissed the top of her head. “Love is terrifying, I know. But love anyway.”
Linnie closed her eyes and breathed in the unique scent of her grandmother's hug: talc and perfume mixed with undernotes of sugar and spice. “I'm trying.”
“Good girl. And no more secrets between us; do you hear me?”
“All right, but that goes for you, too, then.” Linnie went back to devouring her pie. “I know this isn't the recipe you gave us. You're holding out on us. Come on, tell me the secret ingredient.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Grammy took Linnie's plate and rinsed it off in the sink. “But now that we're finished here, would you go back to the living room and send in your sister, please?”
Chapter 30
“
M
y taste buds are having a rave inside my mouth right now.” Amy shoveled another piece of szarlotka into her mouth. “Grammy, seriously, what did you do to this pie?”
Grammy beamed and basked in the praise. “I baked it with extra love.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “Don't give me that love crap. Admit it—you laced this with crack.”
But Grammy was finished with small talk. She topped off Amy's mug of tea and settled in next to her at the kitchen table. “Well, dear heart, you know I'm disappointed about what happened to the brooch, but in many ways, it's a blessing that it's gone. I wouldn't want you and Linnie to fight over it.”
“We wouldn't.” Amy paused. “Much. Although, honestly, I always wondered why you gave it to her instead of me. I mean, I know I'm not the chosen one in the Bialek family, but all the time we spent together, all those weekends and matinee movies . . . I thought we had fun.”
“We did have fun.” Grammy's smile turned wistful. “And that's why I had to give that brooch to your sister. You got my time and attention. You got the best of me. I've always regretted not having a closer relationship with Linnie.”
“Oh.”
“Much as I'm sure your parents are sorry that they didn't have a closer relationship with you.”
Amy rested her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table in flagrant violation of Grammy's rules. “Hmm.”
“Things happen, darling. Time passes. By the time Linnie was old enough to make decisions for herself, it was too late for me to be part of her childhood. So instead I gave her the material possession that was closest to my heart.” She tapped Amy's elbow.
Amy straightened up into perfect posture. “Remember when you used to make me walk around with a dictionary on my head?”
“I remember, though I often despair that it did you any good.”
“How can you say that? Look at this poise.” Amy sipped her tea with exaggerated delicacy. “I make Audrey Hepburn look like a hunchback.”
Now Grammy placed her elbows on the table and leaned forward to buss Amy on the cheek. “You're a lady of many talents.”
“So will you ever get over your disgrace and disappointment?”
“On the contrary, I've never been prouder. When you entered this contest, you could barely make brownies from a mix. And look at you now—a culinary goddess!”
“Well, let's not get carried away,” Amy said. “I can make the apple filling for szarlotka, but that's it.”
“You underestimate yourself. Starting this weekend, you and your sister and I are going to bake our way through my greatest hits.” Grammy nodded toward the punched-tin recipe box on the shelf above the sink. “Everything you loved growing up: my Christmas bread, my cranberry pudding, my almond mazurka.”
“Mmm. Christmas bread.” Grammy's swiateczny, a cake made with orange and lemon peel, vodka, and obscene amounts of butter, was the stuff of legends. The finished product was basically a drunken, creamy fruitcake, and Amy couldn't imagine celebrating the holidays without it.
“You can make it for Chloe and Ben when they get older, just like I made it for you. Keep the family traditions alive.”

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